Hero Who Shrunk For His Cause

by dircat

Desc: Sex Story: An alien has orders to conquer Earth. Nobody told him anything about the dangers of ginger pop and earth women.

At five o'clock in the afternoon Fred felt fucked. He had been sent here by High Command to conquer this miserable little planet and all he could do at the moment was feel fucked. He rolled over on the ground where he had been lying for most of the afternoon, groaned as a splitting pain shot through his body, held his head in his hands and began cursing in a steady vindictive flow of Yrrlian cuss words. I think I should explain that Fred was not his real name, he was not human and he had just experienced his first bestial sexual encounter. The beast in question was about twenty-three, stood at approximately 5' 4", had large, firm breasts guaranteed to give any man a wet dream and all the equipment that any guy would die for. Why, I hear you ask, does an alien from another planet who has to be more advanced than the human race find himself in the situation he was. It's a sad and sorry tale.

When Fred had first arrived he had bounded down the ramp from his spaceship, looking sharply around for any sign of the enemy. As he had landed in the middle of the main car park, (squashing two dozens automobiles and a coke machine during his rather erratic landing) of the largest shopping mall for two hundred miles in any direction, finding the enemy was not the problem. Getting them to stand still was. Fred, who was fairly new at this game, (in fact there had been a lengthy discussion by the High Command on whether he was fit for this type of work at all) had pulled himself up to his magnificent height of 4 feet and had shouted, using his best, and newly acquired command voice, "Stop! Stand still! Uhh," he tried to remember the right words. They came to him in a flash. "Freeze you bastards or you're gonna make my day!" He felt quite satisfied with that. He had a good voice at the best of times, or so his pod mother thought, and he had practised long and hard to get it just right.

The trouble was these stupid savages weren't paying any attention. Fred scratched his arse thoughtfully and decided to use his weapon. Now Fred called it a weapon and most things whose last conscious sight, before they were transformed into slavish zombies, and had been looking down the business end of it would have called it a weapon. But it wasn't a weapon in the true sense of the word. Instead of blowing away it sucked things in. The purpose being to give alien life forms the pleasure of knowing that they were now enslaved by the Galaxy wide master race of Yrrlians. In Fred's universe killing was unheard of, and if it had been it wouldn't have been used in conquering the Galaxy. Why, where would all the millions of slaves come from to run the place if nobody was around anymore?

So in his usual professional manner Fred began to set up the weapon. Now again I should explain that this piece of apparatus was not what anybody would call easily portable. It took Fred several trips back to the space ship, pulling and pushing crates (although they weren't crates as we know the word). Up from the storage area, along one of the longest corridors on the ship, out of the door, down the ramp to pile up around the bottom of his only means of access back into the ship (Fred had a habit of painting himself into corners).

By the time he had completed the task he was knackered and he plonked himself on the ground with his scaly back resting against the mini-mountain he had created. He went to get something cold to drink (for it was a fearful hot day) when he suddenly remembered he had left his provision pouch inside the ship when he was making his final trip.

"Unnghhhhnhcch", which roughly translates into "Oh fucking hell", he said, and with that he just sat there, unable to move.

"Wheeeee!". That was the sound of the beast. She came bounding, and bouncing I hasten to add, between the cars that were left after everyone had disappeared in such a hurry, and approached Fred with a big grin, a big wave of her hand and a big "Hello!"

Fred, with his defences down, couldn't make up his mind what to do. Here he was, on a barbarous planet, no weapon, no energy and no thought other than to get some cold, cold liquid nourishment into his rapidly dehydrating body being approached by a gyrating animal.

"Oh you poor thing," said Alice, for that was her name, "you must be awfully tired, and thirsty and stuff." A good and kind-hearted girl she may have been but she did have a tendency to get stuck for words at times. "Stay there, I'll go and get you some ginger ale." and off she raced. Fred had more or less given up on the place. He had imagined returning as a conquering hero. Having songs sung about him and stories told about him from generation to generation down the ages. But that fond dream was vanishing quite rapidly. In fact it had all but disappeared. Soon the peculiar earthling animal returned to where he was sitting and gave him a large container with some fizzy liquid inside.

Fred was suspicious. As well he might be. He looked at the container, a bottle to you and me, sniffed the open top and shook it gently causing the gases to rise and the liquid to overflow and run down the glass sides. He repeated the whole process twice more. He really couldn't believe his senses so he took the slightest of sips and it was then his face, well head really, cracked open into two parts showing four layers of yellow pointed fangs all marching around his mouth on muscle driven gums, like a lot of tiny soldiers. Fred's ancestors had been very viscous beings in times long passed. To members of his own race Fred was laughing but to Alice, who was standing looking down at him the noise resembled a clap of thunder. Shrieking she put her hands over her ears and stamped her foot. "Stop that, you hear. Stop that. You're making my ears hurt. Now stop that I say." Fred stopped not because of any desire to follow Alice's command but because he was too busy guzzling down the ginger ale for on his planet (yes you've guessed it) ginger ale was the highest of octane alcohol that could be bought. In fact in most places it had been banned so no one could actually buy it anymore. But it was still available if you knew where to go. It had a very quick and startling affect on Fred. His eyes bugged out from his head on long stalks, his mouth sucked inwards, his long ears drooped into a servile position and he started to turn blue. He held out the bottle.

"Oh you want some more. Alright then. Don't go away," and off she shot. Fred had no intention of going anywhere. In fact he couldn't have done so even if he'd wanted to. Soon Alice was back and watched him finish the second bottle. Eight more times she made the trip until she too slumped down beside him with her back leaning against one of the crates.

"Whoooheee! I'm all tired out," she murmured before she fell promptly asleep leaning her head on the shoulder of the now almost comatose alien sitting beside her.

Now here in my tale I must mention a few crucial points. You may wonder why a young, beautiful earth girl like Alice could accept so readily an ugly looking monster like Fred. Well the truth is that Alice's name wasn't Alice just as Fred's name wasn't Fred. And she too didn't belong there just as Fred didn't. No, our heroine whom we shall call Alice anyway, was under the impression that she was having a weird, spaced out dream. To her nothing was real. Not the mall, not Fred, not the clouds in the sky nor the trees in the distance nor...well you get the idea. She knew she was dreaming you see and she also knew that soon she would wake up.

Now as far as Fred was concerned he was feeling a completely different set of emotions. To him, under the influence of ginger ale he was humming away happily to himself and feeling his body succumbing to the huge sexual appetite that was normal for his race just prior to metamorphosis. On Fred's world they didn't really mind who they had sex with as long as they were under the influence of something, anything, when they did it. In fact it was crucial for them to do it especially after strong alcohol, the equivalent of pure heroin, or at least a small joint. You see Fred's world was what we on earth would call a drug culture. Because it was only through drugs that they could procreate themselves. They had this problem of knowing they were ugly, hell they even looked ugly to themselves, so in order to have any physical contact between them they had to be completely stoned (one way or an other).